


Not soldiers, not a war

by imsfire



Series: Guau-guau 'verse [7]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: AU - modern dress, Cassian is more measured in his anger, F/M, Gen, Guau-guau 'verse, Jyn gets angry, Kay just wants to lick his undercarriage, Politics, life in time of pandemic, political spin and lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24324478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsfire/pseuds/imsfire
Summary: Jyn is infuriated by the constant media use of war metaphors to describe the pandemic and suggest that medical staff are soldiers, with all that implies.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Series: Guau-guau 'verse [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1391566
Comments: 25
Kudos: 42





	Not soldiers, not a war

**Author's Note:**

> For Day Five of Jyn Appreciation week 2020; prompt, Soldier.

“I hate the language they’re using,” Jyn says, stretching out her legs along the sofa and glaring at the latest government talking head on the afternoon news. “All these wartime phrases. Heroes and war, enemy and battle. It’s a public health emergency, not a military invasion. We don’t make this much fuss about actual Neo-Nazis marching on the streets and threatening people, but out come all the Blitz similes for a disease.”

“It’s just spin,” Cassian remarks without looking round. His voice is equally bitter, but more cynical. “The universal power of marketing.” He rummages in the drawer by the sink and turns with a bottle opener in his hand.

“Yeah. And it makes me sick.”

At her feet, Kay grunts and sits up abruptly, staring at the television screen as if he’s just noticed how ugly it is.

Cassian says “They do it because it works. It works in some good ways, but it just so happens that it also plays to the world-view they want us all to have.”

“Sick,” Jyn repeats. “I’d like to see the bastards stuck in a real battle, see how they coped with that. Them and their Dunkirk Spirit, Glorious British Home Front bollocks.”

Cassian appears beside the two of them, prising the cap off a bottle of Sol; he offers it to her, opens a second one for himself. “Would this have anything to do with the fact your Extinction Rebellion demo at VE Day was cancelled last week?”

She frowns at the remembered frustration. “I know we couldn’t have held the meeting as planned but it makes me so angry. All the sentiment. All the platitudes. My grandparents lived through the real war, the one that was miserable and killed millions, not this rose-tinted version where all you had to do was to Keep Calm and fucking Carry On. My father’s parents in Denmark had to practically collaborate with the Nazis for five years. Keep a civil face on and never let it slip. _Keep calm and carry on_ doesn’t feel quite so jolly under enemy occupation. And Mum’s mother was evacuated to Ireland and never saw her family again, they all got killed in the bombing of Southampton. That kind of thing leaves weird scars on your mind, you know? And we sanitise that into some saccharine nostalgia-fest and pretend the NHS are soldiers. They are not soldiers – doctors and nurses and fucking porters and cleaners are not fucking soldiers!”

She looks away from the blustering man on the tv, down at her hand clenched tight on the cold beer bottle. Slowly relaxes her grip, and watches as her whitened knuckles regain colour. 

Kay lifts his leg to scratch, then dives under it to lick his undercarriage.

“I’m sorry,” Jyn says. “I’m just grouchy today. And angry. All the shit going on.” She doesn’t want to spiral; but the voice of hate is pontificating off that screen in front of her constantly and she feels smaller and more helpless in her anger every day, and she doesn’t know what to do…

The sofa creaks as Cassian settles beside her. “It’s like that old joke, _May you live in interesting times_. The worst curse you could put on someone. We certainly are living in interesting times.”

“Fascinating, yeah, if you weren’t stuck in the middle of it.” She takes a long pull of her beer. Don’t rant. Don’t go off the rails. Stay here, with Cassian, with his common sense and wisdom, his strength, his stability. “Fascinating, but shit.”

“I do know what you mean,” Cassian says. “About always feeling angry, I mean. How many times do we have to go through this crap? – the greed and lying. The corrupt governments. The fucking Neo-Nazis. Why does every dictatorship always have fanboys to defend it? Why do people believe liars who just confirm their prejudices? Why do people worship bullies? Why doesn’t freedom ever really win – finally win, for good?” The blustering government spokesman is replaced by footage of the Prime Minister gurning at the cameras with his shirt coming untucked and Jyn mimes sticking a finger down her throat. He grins at her gesture and she grins back in a momentary flicker of pride at having worked through her fit of rage so easily with his help. “I know what it’s like to look at a politician and really, really hate them for the things they preach and the way they act, their corruption, their lies.”

As if in agreement, Kay gives a long, wetly disgusted snort and then sneezes.

“But we will get out of this,” Cassian says. “The virus, the emergency – somehow, I don’t know how, but one day, we will come through. We’ll get back out there to another Extinction Rebellion event. We’ll go on marches and demos, we’ll demand proper funding for the NHS, we’ll vote, we’ll do our bit; and we’ll get to Comic-Con too, and we’ll have dinner with Bodhi and Luke again, and sit in the theatre and go on the Tube.”

“And you’ll fly home for that visit you’ve been promising yourself.” She knows how very worried he’s been about his family back in México.

“Yes. Even if it costs twice what it would’ve done last year. I will get home and see Papá. Or he’ll come to see me. We will come through this, and then we’ll start again, trying to fix the world. We all need to hold on to that hope.” 

“Hope.” It’s a very small word. “Hope doesn’t seem like much. In the face of shit like this.”

“But rebellions are built on hope.” Cassian turns off the television, cutting off Boris Johnson in mid-blather. “Let’s finish our beers and take Kay for a walk. Now we’re allowed to exercise more. Hopeful things only. Let’s begin today.” 


End file.
